


All Your Memories

by toewsandconfused



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Delusions, Kid Fic, M/M, Pat may be losing his memories and his mind.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toewsandconfused/pseuds/toewsandconfused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat went to sleep a bachelor in the Trump Towers and woke up next to Jonny in the suburbs with three kids calling him Daddy. Struggling to figure out his new reality Patrick had ruled out dream, was banking on delusion because even though it meant he was losing his mind, it seemed safer than some kind of late-onset amnesia. He didn’t want to face that idea that this really was his life; that Jonny was his, that those beautiful kids were his, and he couldn’t remember any of it. The idea that the memories of their life together could be lost forever was too terrifying to deal with. Losing his mind was preferable to losing his memories.</p>
<p>Started out as a AU inspired by the movie The Family Man then it kind of took on a life of its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Your Memories

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for hockeybigbang at livejournal. Due to some pretty serious family situations it is being posted late (it was done on time, I swear!). Thanks to halfeatenmoon on livejournal for the amazing mix that I will try to link here. And to my muse, Z4rf3, without her, this wouldn't have gotten done. She is the wind beneath my wings (the Pat to my Jonny - if I may).

The sound of his skates hitting the ice was something that he’d never forget as long as he lived. Patrick knew there would be a day that his body would betray him and he wouldn’t be able to play, as time went on he may not even be able to skate, but he would always remember that sound. Newly sharpened skates hitting a fresh sheet of ice, there was nothing else like it. Nothing made his heart race or his adrenaline pump quite like that sound. It was even better after a lockout. The first game back after concessions had been made on each side, probably too many on theirs but the owners knew how to manipulate them. The owners, they were in it for the money but the players, they were in it for the love of the game. They didn’t play to become rich or famous, they played because they didn’t know how not to. It came as easily to them as did breathing. When Pat finally took the ice that night it was electrifying. He couldn’t have asked for anything more than being able to play their first game on home ice.

Except for the moment when Jonny’s sick pass connected with his stick and he was able to sneak it around the goaltender. The horn blew, the guys piled on top of him, it was second only to winning the Cup.

Pat was high on the roar of the crowd and the buzz that ran through him when he was on the ice. So high, in fact, that he didn’t see the D-man barreling towards him. Pat didn’t know what was happening, didn’t have any clue until he fell crumpled up onto the ice.

Patrick jolted awake in bed, his heart racing, his entire body sweating despite the chill in the air. The dream had been so vivid, so real that it was difficult to convince himself it wasn’t. A quick assessment of his body told him nothing hurt, not even his head, which was novel because he’d grown accustomed to a slight headache always looming on the horizon. He pressed his palms against his eye sockets and willed himself to calm down. 

He felt someone shift on the other side of the bed and he immediately held his breath, trying to make sure whoever was sleeping next to him wasn’t going to wake up. Pat was picking up less and less frequently and he didn’t remember doing it last night but his brain was so fuzzy with sleep he knew it wasn’t an impossibility. He lay perfectly still, not having the energy to shake the remnants of his nightmare and deal with a one night stand who didn’t understand the concept. But, because nothing really ever went the way Pat hoped it would, there was movement on the other side of the bed. 

Before he could really assess the situation (were they even at his house? Was he the one that should have done the walk of shame?) an arm draped over his chest, “Another nightmare?” 

He knew that voice, even (especially) thick with sleep it was comforting in a way he’d be too embarrassed to admit by the light of day. But despite being comforted by it, it only brought more questions, “Jonny? What are you doing here?” 

Although Jonny had rightfully earned the moniker Captain Serious, Pat had some things he was serious about too. They ranked; hockey, Jonny, the city of Buffalo. Always those three and always in that order. The thing was, despite Jonny being altogether too serious about things ranging from hockey (important) and Manitoba (lame), he was never very serious about Pat. 

Patrick had always wanted more from Jonny but never got it. Which caused him to act out, drink too much and fuck people who couldn’t make him come the way Jonny could. Which, in turn, gave Jonny yet another reason to keep things casual between them. So to say it was rare to wake up in bed next to Jonny would be an understatement. To have Jonny close the distance between their bodies and wrap his arm around Patrick’s waist was almost more startling than the nightmare. What happened next was downright shocking. “I got home late but I’m here now.” Jonny kissed his temple and pressed up against his side, “Just go back to sleep. I’m here.” Those words should not have been enough to chase away the terror of the dream, or the confusion of Jonny’s presence, but Pat was asleep within minutes.

The confusion of the night was only compounded when he woke up to light streaming into his face. He’d intentionally gotten a condo with a west facing bedroom to avoid that. He’d only woken up in Jonny’s bedroom a handful of times but he was fairly certain he had blackout curtains and he didn’t remember Jonny having flannel sheets. When he finally pried his eyes open and looked around he realized they weren’t at his place, or at Jonny’s, but it wasn’t a hotel either. This place felt too much like a home to be anything but and they were wearing t-shirts and, Pat couldn't be sure what Jonny was wearing, but he had on boxer shorts. Like actual boxers, not boxer-briefs. He didn't even know where they came from.

He rolled onto his side and reached over to jostle Jonny, he tried to keep his voice down, not sure who could be on the other side of the wall, “Jonny. Jonny wake up.”

Jonny whines his name, which would have been kind of adorable under any other circumstances, “B’quiet. Don’t wanna wake up the kids. Wanna sleep just a little longer." Jonny wiggled the mere inches between their bodies to press against Pat and, okay, this wasn't how they normally woke up together, which was on very opposite sides of the bed, not looking each other in the eyes, but it was something Patrick could definitely get behind. What he couldn't get behind, was waking up in a strange room with no explanation from Jon. He had mentioned kids so Pat tried to figure out which of their friends had children and who Jonny would feel comfortable enough around to actually share a bed with Pat. 

"Jonny." Pat whispered, trying to get him to wake up enough to answer some of his questions, "Where are we? I don't remember..." He had more to say, he didn't remember where they were or how they got there. He didn't remember why they'd stayed with one of their friends instead of going to their own places, especially when he didn't have a hangover so he knew he hadn't been wasted. But he couldn't get any of those questions out because a tiny blonde girl came tearing into the bedroom. He looked over at Jonny, expecting a reaction but he barely moved under the thick blankets. Not even to put space between them which was very strange because Jonny was always very concerned about people seeing them together. 

The girl looked six or seven, and while he couldn’t place her immediately, she looked very familiar. Like a word on the tip of his tongue he almost figured it out until his concentration was shattered, "Papa! Daddy! Wake up!" she jumped on the end of the bed, her curls bouncing with her movement, "Daddy! You said we could make pancakes!" Patrick was shocked that this kid could be so rude as to go into a guest's bedroom, jump on their bed and demand breakfast. After the most confusing morning he ever had sober, a tiny child was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Pat rubbed the sleep from his eyes, amazed that Jonny was still half asleep through the assault, "Hey, kid. Where are your parents? I'm sure they'll make you breakfast." 

The little girl, who Pat was struggling to place, just gave Pat a good natured eye roll and giggled, "C'mon Daddy. I'll help you cook before the boys wake up."

Pat sat up a bit and looked around the room, who the hell was the kid talking to? The only people in the room were him and Jonny. Then his eyes fell on a framed picture on the dresser top. It was him and Jonny in their jerseys, which was odd enough since they were in someone else's house, but they weren't alone in the picture. Also in red Blackhawks jerseys were the little blonde girl and two identical looking little boys. Either he was losing his mind, or this was the most elaborate, photoshopped practical joke he'd ever heard of. Who would have enough patience to photoshop pictures and put him and Jonny in a bedroom that actually kinda looked like the room at Jonny's condo only... more grown up. Which was weird to say about Jonny because he'd been oddly grown up since juniors.

Before he could think too much more into the situation the tiny blonde came crashing down between he and Jonny, worming her way into the small space between their bodies, and looked Pat right in the eye as she said, "Daaaa-deeee! Pancakes! And not the ones Papa likes, those taste like cardboard! Can we make ones with booberries?"

Patrick was usually a go-with-the-flow kinda guy. Waking up in random places with strangers of varying levels of attractiveness kind of made that inevitable. But waking up to a child calling you Daddy was above and beyond anything he could have ever prepared himself for. The situation itself was surreal but what was even more mind boggling was that Jonny didn't seem too concerned about waking up in a strange room with a strange kid in bed with them. Jonny didn't even want Sharpy or Seabs knowing about them but a stranger’s child seeing them pressed up against each other was okay?

He reached over the kid to nudge Jonny, hoping he'd wake up and tell him what was going on. But instead he just rolled towards the little girl and said, "Blueberries, Manon. You need to talk like a big girl." Because Jonny was just full of surprises, he put his arm around the little girl and pulled her close before kissing her forehead, "I bet, if we ask Daddy really nicely, he'll let you put some chocolate chips in your pancakes."

Pat's eyes went wide; Jonny was in on this too? It was the world's most elaborate prank. But Jonny had always been opposed to pranks and this definitely wasn't something he'd find funny. Getting a kid to crash into a random bedroom where they were sleeping... not his style at all.

The kid, Manon, what kind of name was that, looked up at Pat, "Pwease Daddy? Chocolate chips?"

"Jonny. This isn't funny." his voice was tight and he was starting to ease off of bed, away from Jonathan Toews and The Worst Prank in History. 

Jonny opened one eye sleepily, "Okay, no chocolate chips. Just... C'mon Pat. I got in really late last night and the boys are going to be up soon. Can you please entertain them so I can sleep for a little longer?"

Pat crawled out of bed without turning his back on Jonny and the mystery kid, "Listen Jonny. I don't know who put you up to this, but it isn't funny. Okay?" He reached around for a pair of pants, grateful when they fit because he had no idea what he'd been wearing the night before. Then he caught sight of the closet. All of his clothing was hanging in there with... what the fuck... all of Jonny's. There was no way Jonny would agree to this. He didn't even look guilty or amused. Just puzzled and annoyed.

Jonny sat up in bed, his puzzled annoyance slipping into worried, "Pat, are you alright?"

Before he could say anything else (which, fuck, he didn't even know what to say… what do you say when you wake up in a delusion-slash-practical joke-slash-Twilight Zone?), two tiny boys in superhero pajamas, complete with capes, which, would have been awesome any other day, ran into the room and jumped on the bed. "Papa's home!" they crashed into Jonny who was trying to wrangle the boys while still keeping an eye on Pat.

Manon, who looked so familiar, looked over at the boys, "Me and Daddy are gonna make pancakes!" Then she looked back at Pat, "Right Daddy?"

That was, as they say, the last straw. Pat made a break for the bedroom door, navigating his way towards the stairs as if he'd been in the house before but nothing looked familiar. Until he caught sight of all the pictures on the wall. They were of him and Jonny mostly, some with their respective families, but a lot were of them and those kids. More with the little blonde girl, some of her as a baby, some with her in Blackhawks jerseys, then there were a few with them holding the little boys as infants. Of the practical joke-delusion-Twilight Zone choices, Pat was placing his money on Twilight Zone.

"Daddy?" he heard the little girl's tiny voice following him so he bolted down the stairs, shoved his feet into some shoes and grabbed a set of keys and cellphone from the table by the door. And in true coward form, he bolted the fuck out of there.

It wasn't his finest moment, but he was a realist, it wasn't his worst either. He'd done a lot of things over the years that he wasn't proud of. Running out of a house with a kid calling him Daddy... okay, that was pretty shitty, even for him. But he wasn't her Dad so either way that kid was going to be let down (or relieved?). He pressed the unlock button on the keypad and audibly groaned when it unlocked a minivan. A fucking minivan. He hoped whoever owned it wouldn't be angry with him, um, borrowing it. But he was clearly having some kind of mental breakdown so Grand Theft Auto charges weren’t really a big concern.

He backed out of the driveway and realized he knew exactly where he was. Sharpy only lived a few blocks away, if anyone could make the world right again, it was Sharpy. He felt the phone buzzing in his pocket and ignored it. He knew without looking at it that it was Jonny and unless he was calling to apologize for the awful, awful prank, Pat did not want to talk to him. So he navigated towards Sharpy's house and hoped for the best.

Sharpy's house looked exactly the same. It was relieving in a way he never expected it to be. He pulled in the driveway, then looked down at his watch. Fuck, it was early. But Sharpy had a little one and if she was anything like the little ones where he woke up, at least one of them would be awake.

He tapped on the door, hoping Sharpy would miraculously be awake but he had no such luck. Abby opened the door looking none-to-amused with Pat; "Did you guys get into a fight?" weren't quite the first words he was expecting to hear out of Abby Sharp's mouth.

Pat looked around as if the Sharps' front yard might give him some clues, "Um... no?" 

Abby narrowed her eyes at Pat, "You’re not fighting but you left him with the kids knowing how late they got back last night? What’s going on Patrick?"

This was not how Patrick imagined this interaction going, he wanted Sharpy to start laughing, tell him it has all been the most epic prank to ever be put on. But instead he just got a steel gaze from Mrs. Sharpy and no answers at all. He was never any good at those looks from women. "I'm just gonna..." he pointed back to the minivan to fill in the 'go' part. He started to step down the stairs when he hesitated; he had to know, "So those kids... Are they, like, do you know who they belong to?"

The steel gaze fell immediately into a look of startled disbelief, “Patrick. That’s not funny.” It was obvious her words were supposed to be reprimanding but she just looked, well, scared, in a way Abby never looked. “Does Jonny know you’re here?” she must have seen something in Pat’s reaction because her next words were, “Why don’t you come in and I’ll get Pat up. You guys can talk.”

The expression on Abby’s face made Patrick’s stomach drop. It was no longer one of anger or annoyance. It was sadness with a touch of panic; bordering on pity. He shook his head, walking backwards towards the minivan, “Nah, let Sharpy sleep. I’ll catch you guys later.” He heard Abby calling his name but he just started the van and hightailed it outta there. 

In true Patrick Kane fashion, things were going from bad to worst. 

He drove around aimlessly, ignoring the buzzing of the cellphone. He wasn’t even sure why he grabbed it when the one person who could help him sort through everything was the one person he didn’t want to talk to. He was pretty sure now that he wasn’t the subject of the most massively planned prank in ever. He was also painfully aware that, not even winning the Stanley Cup, made him famous enough to be Punk’d. Which left him with delusion and Twilight Zone. He was pretty sure he didn’t believe in alternate realities like the Twilight Zone, but before today he hadn’t believed you could wake up in a delusion so vivid that reality felt like the dream.

Pat really needed to think and driving in circles in the world’s most embarrassing minivan wasn’t helping. He really, _really_ wanted a beer, but the tiny part of his brain that housed common sense told him that drinking at eight am, delusion or not, was only going to make things worse. He spotted a Dunkin’ Donuts, which was no Tim Horton’s, but would do in a pinch.

He parked the monstrosity of a vehicle in the corner of the lot and made his way inside, trying to ignore the incessant buzzing of the phone in his pocket. Thankfully the shop was empty save for an older couple at the counter waiting for their drinks. Patrick grinned when the kid behind the counter realized who he was. Maybe his delusion wasn’t so bad after all. He ordered coffee and was grateful that even in his delusion; he never emptied his pants pockets. He found a wadded up ten dollar bill and handed it over to the kid who looked like he was about to burst. And finally he did.

“I just want to thank you. That interview you did with Oprah, man, it changed my life. Seriously, it was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen and it gave me courage to sit down with my dad and just like, talk. In a way I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.” the kid’s face was a little pink, obviously he hadn’t meant to ramble and Pat felt a bad enough for the kid. He didn’t have the heart to tell the kid he was mistaken. That he’d never done an interview with Oprah. Instead he just thanked the kid and made his way over to a seat in the far corner and started sipping his coffee, watching the cars roll by. 

But Patrick couldn’t stop thinking about what the cashier said, he’d seen Patrick do an interview with Oprah that had changed his life, but Patrick would have remembered interviewing with Oprah. She was a figurehead in Chicago; even Patrick had caught some of her shows just before his pregame naps. He was pretty sure that she had retired though. Or like, stopped filming in Chicago. So Patrick had no idea why, or how, he'd be on her show. The kid must have been confused. But with the way his day was going, what would it hurt to do a little Google search. 

He pulled out his phone, ignoring his missed calls and pulled up the internet browser, typing "Patrick Kane Oprah" into the search window. He was shocked when "Patrick Kane Talks Coming Out with Oprah Winfrey" was the top result. This was going way beyond the practical joke capabilities of any of his friends. He didn’t have any ear buds with him so he turned the volume down as low as he could and hit play. 

When the video started to play he just sat stunned. He was watching himself, on a soundstage with Oprah Winfrey, but he'd never been on a soundstage with Oprah Winfrey. He must have finally lost his mind. One too many hits to the head. His mom had always told him he was too small for hockey but his dad had encouraged him, with hands like that he needed to be on the ice. A lot of good that did him. Now he had completely lost his mind. He wondered if he was too old to blame all of this on his parents.

His age never stopped him from placing the blame on other people.

_“I think I would feel better about the situation if I had made the decision to come out, I mean, don’t get me wrong, being the first openly gay athlete is awesome and everything but it wasn’t like I sat down and weighed the pros and cons and decided to come out. It just …. sort of happened... in the middle of a game no less! People always said I liked to hog the spotlight but that was kind of ridiculous._

_“I don’t really remember what happened, I just know what Jonny told me. I’d been hit really hard, way too high. The brunt of the force went right to my head and, let’s face it, I never had too much going on up there in the first place. I had lost consciousness for almost a minute; the team doctor was trying to wake me up with smelling salts while someone brought out a stretcher. When I came to I was really frantic. What I remember most was this overwhelming need to talk to Jonny, I refused to cooperate with the doctor, he was trying to assess my condition but I just wanted to talk to Jonny. I remember telling him over and over again that I loved him, which is the most embarrassing way to come out ever. Telling your captain over and over again that you love him while doctors and paramedics are trying to make sure you’re not, like, paralyzed or anything.”_

They were playing the clip of him getting hit but Patrick had to stop the video. It was the same play from his nightmare only from a different angle. It had really happened. His heart started racing again, from the shock of the clip and from the shock of the fact that he really, truly was delusional. It was the only thing that made sense. 

Patrick opened up another browser window and typed in, “How do you snap out of a delusion” but opted not to hit search. The internet was a wealth of knowledge when it came to finding porn but when it came to his own mental health he decided he’d go it alone. He could figure it out.

He started to think about his morning, waking up with Jonny, safe and feeling, well... loved. Even in the midst of a major delusion, Patrick wasn’t delusional enough to convince himself that he hadn’t loved Jonny for a long, long time. Longer than he cared to quantify. So the more Pat thought about it, the more sense it made. He woke up with Jonny because that’s what he wanted more than even another Cup, to just _be_ with Jonny. Maybe if he went back to sleep in the exact spot he’d woken up in, he could wake up for real, snap out of this delusion. He’d wake up in his condo in Trump tower, alone with a slight headache; it wasn’t as alluring as this delusion but at least it was real.

He made up his mind, knew what he had to do. He had to crawl back into that bed and fall asleep. If delusion Jonny was anything like real Jonny he was going to be pissed that Pat ran out. Especially when he left them with those kids (Pat still wasn’t sure how they fit in but now that he figured out how to go home, he wasn’t going to be around long enough to worry about it). Pat bought donuts for the kids and coffee and a whole wheat bagel for Jonny because he was sure that even delusion Jonny was a health nut. He’d patch things up with Jonny and feign a headache so he could go to sleep, and wake up safe and sound back home. Part of him wanted to stay here, in this life with Jonny. Delusion or not it was closer to what he wanted than anything had ever been before. But when it came down to it, Pat knew this wasn’t real. He wanted to be with Jonny but not like this. Not in some delusional state. He wanted Jonny in reality. In his reality. For the sake of his apparently rapidly declining mental health he needed things to go back to normal. Even if normal wasn’t better at least it was real.

When he pulled into the driveway his heart started pounding. He knew Jonny in any form would be high strung and he sure the way he ran out that morning would only make matters worse. He parked the ridiculous minivan, something that he wouldn’t miss when he woke up from this dream, and made his way up towards the front door, grateful that it was unlocked. He hadn’t made it more than three steps inside the door before he heard Jonny’s voice, “I think he just got home. Thanks again.”

Jonny rounded the corner and before Pat could even offer up an explanation Jonny started in on him, “What the hell happened this morning? You scared the hell out of me, out of the kids.”

Swallowing thickly Pat held up the bag from Dunkin Donuts, “I went to get breakfast?” Unfortunately it came out as more of a question and the look on Jonny’s face went completely unreadable.

“Abby said you showed up at their house. Said you were...” whatever Jonny was going to say died in his mouth like he couldn’t bring himself to say it. His expression was pained in a way Patrick had never seen it before. He had done some shitty things in his life but making Jonny look like that was among the worst.

“I’m sorry. I’m not really feeling like myself.” understatement of the year, “I got you coffee and a bagel and I got donuts for... the kids.” He shoved the coffee and the bag towards Jonny, “I have a bad headache, I’m going to go lay down.”

Jonny’s didn’t respond, just took the bag and watched Patrick climb up the stairs. He was nearly at the top when Jonny called out, “Maybe we should go see Dr. Stevens.”

Pat turned to look over his shoulder down at Jonny, “Who?”

Jonny looked _broken_ in the worst way, “Nevermind, just go lay down.”

Instinctively Pat wanted to reassure Jonny, whenever he was upset or disappointed Pat wanted to turn that around. Even in a delusion that didn’t change. But he knew when he woke up that he’d be back at his condo and none of this will have ever really happened. Ascending the stairs he took in the pictures of Jonny and him with the three little kids that lined the hallways, he was sad about that in a way he hadn't felt since being knocked out of the playoffs.

Pat tugged his pants off and crawled into the bed, turning his back towards the bedroom, curling up into a ball, willing himself to sleep. Willing it all to just go away.

 

If waking up in a strange room with Jonny pressed against him was startling, waking up with two tiny identical faces just inches from his own was downright shocking. He yelped, which was not very manly, and knew immediately it hadn’t worked. He woke up right back in his delusion, complete with two tiny little boys with intense eyes. Before panic really had time to well up he heard Jonny’s voice, “C’mon boys. I told you to leave Daddy alone. He doesn’t feel good and he needs to rest.” The way Jonny’s voice immediately calmed him down was so lame and he grateful, not for the first time that day, that Jonny couldn’t read his thoughts.

One of the boys reached out and put his tiny hand on Pat’s cheek, “Feel better Daddy.” The other one nodded his head, looking very solemn, those eyes were unmistakable. These little boys were obviously Jonny’s. And that was when it hit him like a freight train. The little girl from earlier was so familiar because she looked just like Erica when she was younger. Which meant that Manon, the little girl he’d walked out on this morning, was his.

Pat had never experienced a panic attack before, but he was pretty sure he was in the midst of one. His heart was racing, his mouth went dry and the buzz in his ears was deafening. Somewhere in the background he could hear Jonny saying his name but he couldn’t make himself acknowledge him. He was too stunned by the events of the day; waking up with Jonny, their suburban house, minivan... the kids. Kids. Three little _people_ who looked like them, who called him Daddy. It wasn’t a dream, felt too real to be a delusion. Pat feared he was finally losing his mind, maybe it was a new side-effect of too many concussions.

He didn’t snap out of it, as much as Jonny shook him out of it, “Pat you’re freakin’ me out.” He lowered his voice, looking down into Patrick’s eyes, “You’re scaring the kids. Please Pat. I need you to pull it together.”

Those words were the tipping point, he looked up at Jonny, keeping his voice in a whisper as he confessed, “I don’t know who those kids are Jonny. I don’t remember them... or this house or...” he took a deep breath, admitting it was harder than he thought it would be, “you. I mean, I remember you, obviously. But not like _this_...”

Either Jonny was better at hiding his emotions, or he’d expected something like that from Pat because he didn’t look surprised. Scared and worried, but not surprised. “I made an appointment with Dr. Stevens tomorrow.” his voice was soft and smooth and so relaxing that for the first time that day, he finally felt like maybe they could get this figured out. Jonny was the one person Pat could rely on without question. If Jonny thought this Dr. Stevens could fix him, well then he would trust Jonny’s judgment.

“The kids wanted to come say goodnight, can you just … fake it?” it looked like the question alone was breaking Jonny’s heart and Pat hated himself for putting Jonny through this, for putting those kids (their kids?) through his. 

Pat forced himself to smile, he’d already put Jonny and the kids through so much that morning, he wanted to do anything he could to put them at ease, “Of course... I’m awesome with kids.” 

It was the first time Jonny had the smallest hint of a smile on his face, “That’s what you said right before Manon was born then...” He actually laughed, softly, it could be seen in the shaking of his shoulders more than heard, “Man Pat, you freaked out when she was born. You were terrified to hold her but refused to let anyone but me or our parents near her. Even when Sharpy and Abby came over with Maddy, you said she was too small to be passed around.” It was the first time since he woke up in a strange place that he hoped Jonny was right. That maybe this was where he was supposed to be and all the head injured triggered some kind of late onset amnesia. 

Patrick wished he could remember her as a baby, could remember the look of pride on Jonny’s face when he held her for the first time. If he woke up in this strange reality again he’d ask Jonny if he had videos. “Is she...” he wanted to ask if she were his, but even as confused as he was, he knew the kids belonged to both of them, if only on paper and not biologically, “She looks like Erica.”

“Yeah Pat, we used the same donor eggs but you manned up and went first.” he grinned, it was obviously some kind of joke that was lost on Pat but Jonny must not have noticed because he kept talking, “Three years later it was my turn and we got twins.”

Patrick couldn’t help but laughing, “Overachiever.” There was a pained look on Jonny’s face, it was quick and he tried to cover it immediately but Pat had seen it, “What?”

Jonny just shook his head, “Nothing, it’s just... you used to make that joke all the time, when Tori was pregnant. It’s just... you’re still you, only... not.” Pat opened his mouth to respond, he didn’t know what to say, but that never stopped him before. Jonny had always been better with words, he didn’t always say a lot, but when he spoke it was always worth listening to. Before he could come up with something they were a loud noise coming from down the hallway, probably toys being thrown around. Pat didn’t remember being a parent, but he remembered being a little boy and how much trouble he could get into when his own parents weren’t around.

“Gotta go make sure they didn’t break anything then I’ll send them down to say goodnight.” the look on Jonny’s face said so much more than any words. He trusted Pat with this, with saying goodnight to kids who knew him as Daddy but who he had no recollection of. Pat always knew Jonny would make a great dad; he was fiercely protective of the team, of Pat even when he didn’t deserve it. He knew Jon would do anything to protect his children so the fact that he was sending them in to see Pat even when Pat had no idea who they were, that spoke volumes of his faith in Patrick. 

Softly, he had to ask the one thing he couldn’t fake, “What are their names?”

He was grateful Jonny was heading towards the door so he couldn’t see his initial reaction. Jon looked over his shoulder with a very small, very forced smile, “Tim and Bryan.”

Patrick laughed softly at that, “I probably should have guessed...” Then to lighten the mood he added, “We should have named them Stanley and Calder.” 

Jonny paused at the doorway before looking back at Patrick, “Yeah, you used to make that joke too.”

He didn’t have too much time to ponder over Jonny’s words, or the sick feeling in his stomach, before the two boys tore into the bedroom, jumping right onto the bed. The tiny capes on their pajamas fluttered from the motion and it brought an immediate smile to his face, “Looks like you guys are ready to fight crime.” 

The two boys settled on either side of his body and it was a knee-jerk reaction to wrap his arms around their small frames. The one on his right side started to talk and, wow, he didn’t stop. He was talking a mile a minute about something that happened at pre-school, Patrick only heard, “And then Timmy stoled the red one!” That mischievous smile was straight out of the Tazer playbook, it reminded him of Jonny trying to pull one of his lame pranks-and failing miserably. 

Before he could reprimand Bryan (he figured out names based on his amazing powers of deduction) for tattling tailing, or even correct his grammar he felt Tim shift on his other side, “I did not, Bryan. Miss Erin let me have it.” The fierce determination in his eyes were all Jonny, it was amazing how different the two boys could be, yet how similar they both were to Jonny.

Jonny must have been able to sense trouble brewing because he stuck his head back in the door and shot them the real Tazer stare that Bryan would have to practice years to reproduce. “Okay boys, tell Daddy goodnight. It’s time for bed.” 

Bryan pouted but they both leaned up to kiss one of Pat’s cheek, a chorus of, “G‘night Daddy” rang out as they crawled down from the bed. They ran out the door with capes flapping behind them, Jonny watched them with a warm smile on his face. A smile Patrick had never seen before. The smile of a father watching his children. Before Pat could get lost in the emotions of the moment Jonny turned his attention back to Pat, “I’m gonna go get them tucked in. Manon wants to come see you. You up for that?” 

It was a loaded question but there was no way he was going to let Jonny down, not if he could help it. “Of course.” he used his most confident smile to make up for the fact that he was almost shaking under the blankets. He’d run out on the little girl this morning, on _his_ little girl. The thought of breaking her heart again was even more painful than the thought of disappointing Jonny. But if he learned anything from Jonny it was that the hardest things to do were also the most rewarding.

Just a few moments later he saw her blond curls before her head came into view, “Daddy?” Nothing could have prepared him for the look of fear on his daughter’s face. Daughter. The word didn’t feel nearly as strange as he expected it to. “Are you still mad at me?” her voice was tiny and fragile and if he thought he’d ever experienced pain before, nothing held a candle to that voice, to that question.

He sat up straight and extended his arms towards the little girl, “No honey, I’m not mad at you.” His made sure his voice was soft and reassuring and whatever he said to her must have worked because she came running towards the bed and immediately cuddled into his arms. “I’m sorry I left this morning, I...” he didn’t know what to say to her, how to explain it. The thought of lying to her turned his stomach but the truth was too complicated. He wasn’t even sure what the truth was himself. Instead he tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, “I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him with piercing blue eyes, “I love you, Daddy.”

Without a moment’s hesitation he returned the sentiment, “I love you too.” He waited for the sick feeling of guilt but there was nothing but an overwhelming feeling of love. Even stronger than what he felt for Jonny, it was then he realized he loved their children more than he ever thought he could love someone. He would do anything for them, would kill anyone who tried to harm them, would lay down his life for them. The fact that he didn’t remember them didn’t negate the paternal instinct he had for all three of the kids. He had that desire to love and protect twins who weren’t biologically related to him. The five of them, they were a family in every way that counted. Manon was just as much his daughter as she was Jonny’s; in the same way, the twins were his sons and he would do anything to keep them safe and happy.

When he woke up that morning all he wanted was to be back in his condo with the Chicago commuters bustling under him. Now he realized where he was supposed to be. What he thought was a suburban nightmare was a dream come true. A dream he never even dared to let himself have. It was so far from the person he used to be. The person who drank too much and cared too little. But now he had Jonny, really had him as opposed to the hotel nights and awkward silences. And they had three perfect kids, three kids who depended on them, on him, to not fuck up. Patrick never really cared for responsibility, it was too much pressure. It was why he never wore an “A”. Now all he could think about was the fact that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his kids. 

He was so deeply absorbed in his reverie that he didn’t notice Manon nodding off against his chest. Nor did he hear Jonny coming into the bedroom. Jon smiled fondly at Pat as he reached across his body to pick up the sleeping child. Manon stirred slightly, mumbled, “I can walk.” and before Jonny could even finish saying, “I know baby.” she promptly fell back asleep. Pat always knew Jonny would make a great father, anyone who has ever seen him work one-on-one with a rookie knows that. It was one of the reasons he never let himself think of a future with Jonny. Jonny wanted a white picket fence, kids and a dog. Pat never worried further than his next drink. 

But somehow they were able to overcome it and make this life; the life Patrick never knew he always wanted. 

 

Patrick settled down in the blankets, fully intending to wait for Jonny. Despite his nap, the day itself had been exhausting and Patrick was mentally and physically drained. He felt the bed dip next to him as Jonny crawled into bed, seconds later Jonny wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss his temple. “I’m up.” Patrick mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He felt Jonny smiling against his skin and heard him whisper, “I know baby.” as he fell asleep.

Deja vu didn’t come close to describing the feeling Pat got when he walked into the doctor’s office. He felt like he’d seen everything before, yet nothing looked familiar. Dr. Stevens smiled warmly and reached out to shake his hand. Pat moved mechanically to return the gesture, trying to force a smile but knowing the effort was lost. There was nothing to smile about. They had dropped Manon at school and left the twins with Abby, although it was just another morning for the kids, it was traumatic for Pat. He was terrified he’d lose them. That he’d finally wake up only to realize none of this was real. He couldn’t imagine a life without his children. Without Jonny.

“Jon tells me you’ve been having some problems with your memory.” was the way Dr. Stevens started the conversation.

Talk about an understatement. 

Pat just nodded and when the doctor asked what his last concrete memory was, he thought about it and kept remembering that hit in the video. He didn’t remember it happening, but he can remember the way it felt. He can still feel the aching in his bones, the buzzing in his head. “I guess the game we played right after the lockout ended?” he remembered the signs, the emotions rolling off of the crowd, it was going to be a shortened season but they all agreed it was better than not having one at all. 

It was the look on Jonny’s face, not the doctor’s that really worried him. Jonny could sense Patrick looking at him because he avoided eye contact, not usually Jonny’s style, as he mumbled out, “Pat, that was almost ten years ago.”

Patrick just rolled his eyes, he wasn’t stupid, “Not the 2004 lockout, the one in 2012.”

He wasn’t prepared for Jonny’s response, although ultimately it explained a lot. Just two words, so unlike the ones he’d only heard the night before, “I know.”

Patrick had ruled out dream, was banking on delusion because even though it meant he was losing his mind, it seemed safer than some kind of late-onset amnesia. He didn’t want to face that idea that this really was his life; that Jonny was his, that those beautiful kids were his, and he couldn’t remember any of it. The idea that the memories of their life together could be lost forever was too terrifying to deal with. Losing his mind was preferable to losing his memories. 

Patrick was struggling with the reality of the situation, of the fact that he’d lost any memory of his relationship with Jonny, of the birth of their children. He couldn’t remember what Manon’s first words were or which of the twins walked first. He heard Jonny ask softly, “How is this even possible?”

Dr. Stevens just shook his head, “With the brain - anything is possible.”

So many tests were ordered that he stopped listening completely. He recognized MRI and CAT scan but it all just became a jumble of letters. He was grateful that Jonny took the reins with the doctor, scheduled the tests and led Patrick out to the minivan that was slowly growing on him. It wasn’t until they were alone in the van that Patrick really started to panic. He looked over at Jonny, “I want to remember.”

Jonny reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, “You will, Pat. The doctor said pictures might help. We’ll pick up lunch and go home and look through some albums. Whatever it takes.” Jonny’s smile reassured him almost more than his words, “We’ve been through worse Pat. We’ll get through this.”

Lunch, as it turns out, was take out from a shady looking Thai restaurant, “I know,” Jonny said laughing, “I had that look on my face the first time you brought me here. You told me to give it a chance and we’ve been back once a week for four years.” 

They got home and spread the food out on the coffee table before Jonny grabbed a photo album off of a bookcase (they must have been Jonny’s because Pat owned approximately three books). “I’m not really sure where to start.” Jonny said awkwardly, in a refreshing moment that reminded Pat he wasn’t the only one struggling here. He didn’t have to feel like such a freak. “So I grabbed Manon’s baby book, that was when...” Pat could tell he was struggling for the right words, but Patrick had the feeling that describing a life altering event to someone who couldn’t remember it was much like describing the color red to the blind. There was no point of reference. No way would he ever be able to grasp how monumental that day had been. “When things really started to change for the better.”

He knew Jonny’s words carried weight, _for the better_ indicated there were some changes that weren’t good. He was sure it had to do with the backlash of his on-ice confession. Even with the You Can Play movement hockey wasn’t the most tolerant sport. Something told Patrick he was fortunate he couldn’t remember. He was tempted to ask Jonny about what had happened, about the team and the fans and, fuck, their families. He probably gave his mother an aneurysm. But then Jon opened the book and the first page was a picture of Manon bundled in a pink blanket, face scrunched and pruney. Patrick always thought that all babies looked alike, and, well, they were all kind of ugly. But Manon, she was gorgeous. Looking at her he could already see his features. He could see the little girl she would become. **Manon Toews-Kane** was printed under the picture in his mother’s handwriting. “Your mom started the book, didn’t think you’d keep up with it. Boy did she underestimate you.” he said with soft laughter, moving closer to Pat so they could both look down at the photo.

“Manon? What kind of name is that?” it wasn’t his usual snide comment; it was genuine curiosity as he studied the photograph. He took in her date of birth, her measurements, but mostly he couldn’t stop taking in the lines of her face. She was so familiar. He would have given up his Cup in a heartbeat if he thought that would bring the memories back. 

Jonny ate silently while Patrick studied the picture; he smiled around his chopsticks as Patrick asked the question, “You picked it.” 

Patrick finally tore his eyes away from the picture to look at Jonny, his own food long forgotten, “I really doubt that. I can barely pronounce it.” 

That seemed to really amuse Jonny who flipped the book to the second page. It was a series of ultrasound pictures; the first one was nothing more than a blob. The second was a little more distinguishable, the third had an arrow pointing to the middle of the form and the words “It’s a girl!” printed under it. The final one was so detailed he swore he could see her facial features. “The day we found out she was a girl was the day it really felt real. I mean, we’d already bought the house, we knew which room would be the nursery, we’d even bought some of the furniture but knowing that we were having a girl...” Jonny just shook his head, again at a loss for words. “You started really going nuts, bought out half of Babies ‘R’ Us, we had more frilly dresses than she could have worn in a lifetime. But when you came down from your baby high, it was like you crashed. You didn’t say it but it felt like you were afraid I wouldn’t love her as much because she was yours, not mine.”

The book jostled as Patrick looked up at Jonny, “That’s stupid; she’s just as much mine as she is yours. Besides, she’s so damn cute, there’s no way anyone could not love her.”

Jonny nodded as he reached down to steady the book, “I know, I’m just saying, it really seemed like something you were afraid of. I mean, Pat we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. So anyway, you decided that we should give her a French-Canadian name, so that she would have a connection to my side of the family and I-”

He couldn’t help but interrupt with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, “Wait, _I_ wanted our baby to get in touch with her inner Canadian?!”

“Yep.” it was a shame that even smug looked good on Jonny, “We ordered one of those baby name books from a shop in Montreal and you hated every one of them. The ones you didn’t hate you said, and this is a direct quote, _don’t feel right_. Seriously, you said that. Your mom laughed so hard she almost hung up the phone. So after exhausting the search we put the book away and decided to think on it. That night the NHL channel ran a special on Manon Rheaume and that was it. She was Manon from that night out. You said Manon Rheaume may have been the first woman to play in the NHL but our Manon would be the best. You said with two dad’s in the NHL she couldn’t lose.”

They sat on the couch for almost two hours, Jonny explaining what each photo was from. Pictures of Manon in her Towes-Kane jersey, pictures of her walking and at the zoo and on a boat in Toews Lake. Then there were pictures of the twins, Jonny explained they had to paint one of Bryan’s toes with polish so they wouldn’t get them mixed up. There were pictures of Manon feeding one of them a bottle, pictures of them sitting in highchairs with spaghetti covering their tiny bodies. So many memories and Patrick couldn’t conjure mental images of any of them. It was as if the last nine and a half years hadn’t happened, even though he had seen the proof. Jonny had the patience of a saint; he answered all of Patrick’s questions without getting frustrated or disheartened.

He could have sat there all night but Jonny started to stir, he closed the book and looked almost afraid to speak, “Pat, I eh... have a game tonight.”

Patrick knew it was coming but he hadn’t wanted to say it out loud, “I don’t play anymore, do I?”

“You played a few games the following season but you were... You were never able to play the way you did before. You said it was better to burn out than to fade away.” Jonny looked so pained, as if he were back in the moment when Patrick had quit, instead of just telling him about it in their living room. 

Pat reached up and squeezed his hand, “S’okay Jonny.” And it was. Which was the strangest feeling yet. For the majority of his life the thought of not being able to play was akin to losing a limb. But something had changed, he knew he’d given up hockey and gotten something even more precious in return. He got a lame minivan and an equally lame Canadian sharing his bed, and a big house with three wonderful children. It was everything he never thought he’d want, and now, the thought of playing another game paled in comparison to spending the day with his kids. He was sure that the day Manon was born surpassed the day he won the Cup. He only hoped one day he’d remember.

Jonny squeezed his shoulder and nodded upstairs, “I gotta pack a bag for the kids, Abby’s going to keep them for tonight. I’m getting back pretty late.”

Their footsteps echoed in the empty house as he followed Jonny up to the bedrooms, “Why are they staying at Sharpy’s? Doesn’t Manon have school tomorrow?”

“I just...” Jonny turned in the doorway, “It’s for the best, just until your memories start to come back. Three kids are a lot for someone who doesn’t remember having any at all. I just figured this way Abby can watch them and you can get some rest.”

It was irrational, Patrick knew that, but he offended. Hurt and angry and offended. “I can watch my own kids. I may have forgotten some stuff but I would never let anything happen to them. You know me better than that.” He wanted to grab Jonny, to shake some sense into him. But Patrick was starting to realize that Jonny wasn’t holding up any better than he was. 

“Don’t Pat. Don’t do this.” Jonny had clearly been suppressing all the fear and confusion and worry and it was threatening to explode. His voice was heated and his eyes were fierce. “You’re not yourself right now and frankly, you would never leave the kids with me if the situation was reversed. If I didn’t know how to take care of them. I know you would never let anything happen to them, if you were yourself. But you’re not, you don’t even remember them. Pat, you can’t even tell the boys apart. It’s better if Abby keeps them until I get back.”

Jonny could have hit him and it would have hurt less. Probably because nothing he was saying was a lie. Whatever bit of paternal instinct that he had buried in his subconscious was in a tug of war. Yes, on one hand, he wouldn’t want a stranger watching his children (which is what he essentially was) but on the other hand, it wasn’t as if they’d had any training when Manon was born. Parenting was really just a series of trial and error. “I can handle it. I can take care of our kids for a few hours Jonny. People leave their kids with fifteen year old babysitters all the time. I’m an adult and I love them. I may not remember them but I would _die_ before I let anything happen to them. Can Abby say the same?”

Patrick knew he was putting Jonny in an awkward place but when it came down to it, he didn’t care. They were his kids too and he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked up at Jonny, “I have six years of memories to make up for. Please Jonny. Please let me do this.”

As it turned out, Jonny was just as susceptible to Patrick’s pleas as he had been when they were younger. Jonny picked up the kids from Sharpy’s house and pressed Patrick’s cellphone in his hands, “I know you’re going to be fine, just please humor me so I can try to concentrate on the game. Abby’s number is in there, so are my parents and your parents. You can call me too, I’ll check my messages between periods. Just… keep it on you. Just in case.”

Patrick woke up that night to Jonny calling his name, Patrick had known him long enough to recognize panic in his voice. “In here.” He tried to call out loud enough for Jonny to hear him, but not loud enough to wake the kids who were sleeping on either side of him. 

He was struggling to free himself from the iron grip of two four year olds when Jonny came into the living room, “You scared the hell out of me.” 

The panic had given way to anger and Patrick was grateful he couldn’t see Jonny’s face from the depths of the blanket tent they’d constructed in the living room. He managed to ease out of the tent without collapsing it on the kids, “Hey, it’s cool. I’m sorry we just…” He nodded back to the fort, shrugging his shoulders, hoping Jonny would understand. 

“You know I was nervous enough about leaving them here and I come home to empty beds! Do you have any idea how scared I was?” Jonny was still in his post-game suit and if he wasn’t so angry, Patrick would have admitted that Jonny looked even better now that he had ten years ago. 

Patrick reached out for his hand and tugged him towards the stairs, “In our room, okay? I don’t want to wake up the kids.” He wasn’t sure if it was Patrick’s concern, or the fact that the kids were all okay, but Jonny’s anger deflated quickly. 

Once inside their bedroom Pat turned to look at the other man. He looked exhausted and it wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that came from almost twenty minutes of ice time, it was emotional exhaustion. He opened his mouth to speak but Jonny beat him to it. “That’s the first time you’ve touched me since this all happened.”

Pat knew the confusion was clear on his face, “Jonny. We’ve touched plenty over the last coupla days.” He wanted to add that they’d even _spooned_ and that the Jonny he remembered would have been painfully embarrassed by that. But he figured Jonny was upset enough at the whole thing.

“No. I’ve touched you.” Jonny reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton the top two buttons. “And it isn’t about affection Pat, it’s about what you’re going through. You don’t think that it’s an awful coincidence that you remember everything up until the moment you and I became _us_. Literally Pat. You remember being hit and nothing else. That was the night you told me you loved me. That was the night that we became more than just cowards who wanted more.”

The silence of the room was deafening, Patrick couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. He had nothing to say, no words to try to comfort Jonny.

“Part of me was always afraid you’d do something like this.” Jonny fell onto the corner of the bed, looking up at Patrick across the room. “Not this, obviously. I’m not nearly creative enough to come up with something like this but I was always afraid you’d regret us. Regret not being able to play, regret the kids, the life we have. I just wanted it so badly, wanted it with _you_ so badly, that when you went along I tried to convince myself that you wanted it too. That you weren’t just agreeing with me to appease me.”

That was the last straw. Patrick crossed the room and knelt at Jonny’s feet, reaching for his hand because it was the safest gesture he could risk. “Jonny. I may not remember that night. Or buying this house, having the kids. But I don’t need memories to tell me how I feel about you. When I first saw you play, I was impressed. When I first saw your eyes, I was infatuated. But when he first played together, when he clicked on the ice as if we’d played together for years; that was when I knew. We have something special, something I only read about in the magazine my sisters left around the house. I knew I needed to do whatever it took to stay by your side. And our kids, our life together, it’s all just an extension of that feeling. Only amplified. The first time you passed a puck to me and I didn’t have to look, just knew where it was going to be, I knew we had something special. And this all just proves it.” Pat leaned up to press their foreheads together, crowding into Jonny’s space, with a tiny smile on his lips he whispered, “I love you.”

Patrick could feel the warmth radiating off of Jonny, the affect those three little words had on him. “Pat.” Jonny’s voice was thick with emotion, Patrick wanted to kiss him but it was obvious he had something to say, “Pat, can you open your eyes?”

That… wasn’t quite what he was expecting. His eyes were open, heavy lidded but open. He’d been gearing up for a kiss and he was still hoping they were going to get there. Maybe even a little farther since the kids were asleep, “That’s all you have to say to me?” he asked with a teasing smile.

“C’mon Kaner. We need you to open your eyes.” Okay, that was strange. Even for Jonny. He pulled back to look at Jonny’s face. The entire time they’d been together he’d been Pat or Patrick. Kaner was reserved for the ice. Jonny just looked at him with confusion on his face, “Get a stretcher. Something’s wrong.”

Patrick dropped Jonny’s hands and tried to shuffle backwards on his knees, “Jonny. That’s not funny.” He couldn’t get the confused look on Jonny’s face out of his head. “I said I love you… You’re really freaking me out.”

“Pat, if you can hear me, we’re going to move you.” Jonny’s mouth was moving but it wasn’t his voice. Pat’s heart was slamming in his chest, he looked around the room franticly, trying to figure out what was going on, what could be wrong with Jonny. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to erase the look on Jonny’s face from his memory but when he opened his eyes again, things only got worse. 

The blaring lights were the first thing he noticed only because he was staring right up them, the second thing was the chill in the air. It was freezing but he was sweating and his head. Fuck his head hurt so badly. He could barely move but he forced himself to, he had to figure out where he was. What was going on?

He moved his head to the left despite people yelling at him to keep still, he saw skates and he knew immediately that he was on the ice. He couldn’t remember what had happened, how he ended up there, but all he knew was that he needed to see Jonny immediately. “Jonny.” He croaked out, turning his head to look at one of the people hovering above him, “Tazer. I need Tazer.”

Zack, one of their team doctor’s, appeared over him, “Pat, I need you to wiggle your fingers for me. Can you do that?”

“I need Tazer. I have to tell him. He needs to know that I love him.” The thought of Jonny not knowing was making him frantic. He couldn’t concentrate on the tests even though he knew it was important, at that moment nothing was more important than seeing Jonny. 

The doctor tossed the smelling salts onto the ice, abandoning them now that Patrick was alert, “I’m sure he knows Patrick. I really need you to focus here. Can you move your feet?”

“Where is Jonny? I need to tell him. Please. Where is he?” He was bordering on hysterical, which would be embarrassing later, but laying there on the ice, all he knew what that he needed to see Jonny.

When Jonny finally appeared over him Patrick was overcome with relief. He reached to grab ahold of any part of Jonny he could reach, making sure Jonny was paying attention as he told him, “I love you.”

Jonny had blood smeared at the corner of his lip but he still tried to smile, tried to calm Patrick any way he could, “I know buddy. I love you too, okay? But you have to do what Zack says so we can make sure you’re okay.”

Patrick didn’t have a concrete grasp of where he was or what was happening, but he knew Jonny was just placating him. “No, Jonny. I _love_ you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He was repeating it over and over again like a mantra. There was no way Jonny didn’t understand him after the scene he was making. Hell, there was no way the doctors and paramedics and teams on both sides of the ice didn’t understand him. But when Jonny looked him in the eyes and told him, “I love you too.” nothing else mattered.

Patrick couldn’t place where the feeling came from, but at that moment he knew everything was going to be okay.

 

_“Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.” Bob Dylan_


End file.
